I’ve had an ongoing medical problem that doesn’t seem to be getting any better. So I finally decided to seek some professional help. I just got back from the clinic, and the news is not good.
For the past few years, every time I attend a session, or practice the whistle, or listen to CDs or mp3s, for hours or days afterwards I continue to hear music in my head. Tunes keep running through my brain at all hours of the day and night like a broken record. I wake up with The Kesh Jig pounding in my ears like a phantom. I get in the car, and can’t drive because I’m tapping my foot on the accelerator to the backbeat of Cooley’s. At night I lie awake for hours until the imaginary strains of The Butterfly subside to a dull roar.
The problem is fairly constant, but seems to get worse every month around the time of the full moon. I only need to look up at the night sky, and suddenly dozens of hackneyed neo-Celtic songs with moon, June, croon, tune, rune, and even monsoon and dubloon come rushing into my brain, and I can’t get rid of them. During these episodes, the mere mention of Riverdance or Enya is enough to turn my stomach.
So now after a series of grueling and humiliating tests and cognitive profiles, my psychiatrist has determined that I’m suffering from an acute condition known as Post Melodic Stress syndrome, or PMS. It’s similar to Post Traumatic Stress (PTS), but with a tendency to affect both traditional musicians and workers in the elevator music industry.
And the prognosis is not good. Various forms of aversion therapy are under discussion, such as replacing my collection of Mary Bergin recordings with a selection of budget CDs with the word “Celtic” in the title, and attending beginner’s sessions where only hornpipes and slip jigs are allowed. For those acute monthly PMS episodes, my doctor has also prescribed an experimental drug called Do-Re-Midol, but with severe side effects ranging from tone deafness to an uncontrollable desire to consume vast quantities of Guinness.
Meanwhile, for the foreseeable future I’m likely to remain grouchy and irritable, bloaded and bloviating, particularly when posting on Chiff & Fipple. So my sincere apologies in advance to everyone who reads my annoying posts. Hopefully, one day medical science will find a cure, and I can finally get some rest and be free of the curse of ITM and the hearbreak of PMS. Thanks for your understanding.
… er… I mean… 
… nah… 